SOLDIERS ON LEAVE IN LONDON.

Wanganui Herald, Volume LI, Issue 15341, 2 October 1917, Page 7

SOLDIERS ON LEAVE IN LONDON.

Y.M.C.A, VERSUS THE STREET PEST. .-(■ By “Triangle.”) Two nights ago a member of the New Zealand Field Artillery, youthful, broad, and handsome, was carried into the Y.M.C.A. Kiosk- in Trafalgar Square suffering acutely from the effects of a malicious practice that has become all too common since overseas soldiers with well-lined pockets commenced coming to London. He had been drugged. This sort of thing usually happens in one of the low-class hotels that- abound near the nrincipal highways. A soldier enters with one or more companions, has “just one.” then another, and possibly a third. The harpies, both male and female, are watching their chance, and while his attention is diverted the contents of a small packet are poured into his glass. Although he becomes sufficiently fuddled for his pockets to bo gone through, he does not actually collapse until the hawks have had time to fly. . The New Zealander in question had walked some distance from Charing Cross Road before the poison caused him to fall heavily to the pavement. A Y.M.C.A. official quickly had a motor ambulance in attendance, and very soon the hospital staff were making the custoraary_.pronouncefticnt. “Doped” again,” said the doctor. “Why we had a bad New Zealand case here the night before last.” This is the kind of thing that is causing the New Zealand Y.M.C.A., and its kindred associations, to redouble its efforts in protecting the men on leave in London. SUNSHINE AND SHADE. Apart from the large Y.M.C.A. Huts ail over London, there are smaller structures which eerve as places of inquiry. Here the soldiers come to ask their way, write the London letter homo, or rest while watching the ceaseless flow of traffic outside. Each little bureau could provide many stories of mirth and tragedy, of the laughter that follows wholesome pastimes, and the silence that occasionally broods over a fellow in distress. Looking in one evening last week at the kiosk in Trafalgar Square the writer viewed a homely scene such as would delight the hearts of many New Zealand mother?;. In an ante-room eat a lady who is well known in our North Island, and seated around her sipping coffee were a dozen or more soldiers who had come 14,000 miles to fight for King and country. Gathered together promiscuously, this happy party chatted about Maoriland and mutual friends until the long twilight ended. In striking contrast had been the scene outside. As on any other evening dozens ox soldiers were lounging about . the fountain, now waterless and unpicturesque, and it was not tlie inspiring figure at the head of the Nelson Column that claimed their attention. The brazen street flappers saw to that. Torched on the encircling stone wall beside. the soldiers, with dangling feet and unwomanly actions, the defied both police and public. None bothered except the Y.M.C.A. workers, who moved about inviting the men to partake of supper or visit one of their many establishments where music, song, and story are to be enjoyed without charge. The Delilahs of London have a bitter grudge against the Y.M.C.A., because it so persistently stands between them and many fine >onng Samsons who might otherwise be tempted by them